GATE: The Great War
by Pagemaster0099
Summary: After the appearance of a GATE on the war torn battlefields of WW1, a young man finds himself going from one of the bloodiest conflicts in history to fighting in an unknown land against unknown forces consisting of creatures and people from storybooks. Will he survive this new world of new dangers, or will be become another name on a gravestone to be forgotten?
1. Chapter 1

**DON'T WORRY, THE STORY STAYS THE SAME AND ALL ORIGINAL OCs WILL REMAIN. I RAN INTO A BLOCK IN THE ORIGINAL STORYLINE AND HAVE DECIDED TO REDO IT IN A WAY THAT WOULD HELP CARRY IT FURTHER AND MORE FREQUENT UPDATES!**

The all too familiar whistle and faint explosion of a distant mortar shell missing its targeted trench by a few dozen yards echoed across the once green fields of France as US Army troops sat in the muddy trenches. Across the battlefield, only by a few football fields away, sat the enemy trench with the German army waiting in the same conditions as their American adversaries. No orders of heading over the top into No Man's Land had been given and there were no signs of the order being called any time soon. With the normal rainy weather having all but passed over, many men took advantage of this dry weather to begin divulging themselves in their rations of cigarettes. Whoever's match could actually spark a flame would be carefully passed around to light multiple cigarettes before it went out. One of the few young men that possessed one of the few burning matches was a young man of about 6' with short black hair swept back into an undercut, a tan complexion, and a stocky build for someone in the military and was often mistaken for someone older than what he really was.

"Hey, Arthur, hurry up and pass the match before it goes out!" a soldier sitting on the bench located against the trench wall demanded.

"Calm down, you greedy bastards, it's still burning," the young man with the match said with an accent thick with Southern origin.

Coming from origins deep rooted within the South of the United States, Arthur Mannix hailed from a long line of soldiers and farmers within the Mississippi Delta. His grandfather was a poor farmer that had fought and died in the American Civil War and his father was part of the posse that had played a part in the legendary tale of the feud between the Hatfield and McCoys. When the threat of war loomed over the horizon Arthur was quick to follow in his father and grandfather's footsteps to serve in a combat role. The minute America became involved in the Great War in Europe Arthur was already standing in line to enlist in the Army as a doughboy. Arthur's father avoided conscription due to an accident that left him missing his left leg below the knee. Arthur stood much taller and larger than those he trained with due to him working on his family's farm the minute he could properly ride a horse and hold a hoe. Living a secluded life in rural Mississippi brought both drawbacks and benefits to the young man. However, his home life and his previous occupation mattered not in the muddy trenches of once green fields of France now scarred with barbed wire and crates. The day before Arthur was to board the ship to leave for Europe, his mother gave birth to a beautiful little girl named Hope. His mother was a very religious woman, same as his father and himself, and believed doing this would somehow save her eldest child from a horrific death on the frontlines. So far, it seemed to work.

Now, a few thousand miles away, Arthur had been assigned the duty of machine gunner and had been given a standard Lewis gun with a few spare drums of ammunition. He rarely left the trench and was held back from the advances towards the German line. Time and time again, Arthur would witness countless numbers of men no older than him charge towards the enemy and be cut down before they could even reach halfway. Weeks had passed since the last advance from either side and had slowed down to snipers on both sides attempting to pick off whoever was foolish enough to poke their heads from the trench.

When Arthur no longer had the burning match, he reached into his canvas satchel to retrieve a leather journal to write in and a pencil. The journal was a collection of letters to be mailed back home and personal entries detailing his life in the trench. He had served since the beginning and had been in countless trenches, but they all had a habit of looking the same and reeking the same stench of death. In the letters to his home he made sure to refrain from the details of fighting and the killing to keep his mother from worrying too much about him. In truth, Arthur had long since had his first kill and had already charged with many others towards enemy lines. These were the facts that he was trying so hard to hide from his family back home.

"How can those krauts keep fighting? I know they're up to their knees in shit like we are," a soldier sitting next to Arthur grumbled to himself as he took a long drag from the cigarette in his lips.

"Same reason we're still here: the assholes sitting comfortably a few hundred miles away from here, sipping wine and eating cake, while we freeze and starve out here," another replied coldly.

"Ours or theirs?"

"Both," Arthur answered without looking up from his journal as he wrote.

"Damn, I'd even settle for more of those shitty biscuit in our rations right about now. Haven't eaten a thing since yesterday morning," the same soldier as before said as he rubbed his stomach as he spoke.

"You ate yesterday?" Arthur asked jokingly, receiving a few weak laughs from the rest of the men in the trenches. The laughs instantly ceased when the familiar stomp of officer's boots on the wooden planks could be heard on the approach as all men stood at attention. Just as expected, an officer appeared with two other men following behind him, all three of their uniforms still neatly kept and smelling of soap.

"New orders have just been received: the Germans have not been seen or heard in their trenches for three weeks now, which has left command to believe that they have abandoned their trenches. I need a small group to go over and scout it," the officer commanded as the soldiers around him remained silent. After a few more moments of silence, the officer grew impatient and began to pick soldiers at random.

Arthur, unfortunately, was among those that had been chosen to go forth.

The German trench was located in a forest that had not yet been blown to splinters by mortars or burned to ash by flamethrowers. It was unclear just how far away the Germans really were, but it was certain that they were shrouded by the forest before them.

Those who were to remain in the trench began giving those chosen spare ammunition and filling their canteens with their own water to help them in their mission. After trading a few muddy rifles and rusted bayonets, the group of ten chosen by the officer prepared to climb up the wooden ladder. Arthur had to relinquish his Lewis gun for a Remington Model 10 and whatever spare shells the soldiers could scrounge up. Cocking the shotgun to ready a shell, Arthur kissed a cross hanging from his neck before tucking it back into his uniform and followed the others up the ladder into No Man's Land.


	2. Chapter 2

The chosen ten soldiers crept through the woods, weapons at the ready and loaded, as they scanned every tree and bush for signs of movement. The storm clouds over the forest provided relief from any sunlight to cause a glint from any of their rifles and giving their positions away to the Germans. Arthur and his comrades stepped lightly from tree to tree as a way to keep themselves from being out in the open and already being behind cover if the bullets started flying. They had journeyed deep into the forest and had not even heard a faint chirp of birds amongst the branches above their heads. This was clear that something had them spooked and may have caused them to flee their nests and had lingered to prevent them from returning to their eggs. The air was cold and damp that day, and each man struggled to keep their breath from trembling in fear. No man knew if they were in the crosshairs of a sniper or were walking into an ambush that would result in the infamous 'We regret to inform you' letter to their loved ones at home. The clouds above them boomed the familiar sound of thunder following the flash of lightning.

"Knowing my luck, I'm gonna get struck by lightning before even seeing a German," a voice said from a tree a few feet from the one Arthur had just taken cover behind. The voice was odd and carried an accent Arthur had yet to hear in the trenches before. He looked over to see who the owner of the voice was, finding a young Latino with his back against the trunk of the tree and watching for when to move from the other soldiers present. He looked to be only nineteen, the same age as Arthur, with short black hair combed back, dark brown eyes, and a wide build of 5'10". He was armed with the same Winchester Model 1897 as was gripped tightly in Arthur's hands.

"I had an uncle struck by lightning before," Arthur whispered over to the Hispanic in an attempt to lighten the young man's spirit.

"Did he die?" the Hispanic whispered back as the two noticed the others moving up, causing them to quickly move from their trees towards a much larger oak tree. They stood back to back against each other to allow them both to fit behind the cover.

"Nah...the gator he found in the river did," Arthur replied as he looked back over his shoulder at the shorter Latino, who looked up with a raised eyebrow and a slight grin of disbelief.

"Oh yeah, because the alligator population in Europe is my biggest danger right now," the Hispanic said shaking his head, causing both men to laugh slightly before composing themselves to keep their silence.

"Manuel Carrión," the Hispanic spoke after a few moments of silence to make sure they had not been spotted by any Germans.

"Arthur Mannix. Where you from, Manuel?" Arthur asked in an attempt to distract themselves from the fear of death looming on their shoulders.

"New Mexico, you?"

"Mississippi."

Their conversation was cut short when they noticed the others moving from their covers, the two quickly followed behind until they reached a clearing in the forest that seemed to show signs of struggle and bombardment from mortars. It did not take a scholar to know that the group of doughboys had located the German trenches tucked away in the forest. Now, within a stone's throw of the enemy position, they could easily figure as to the paranoia their officers and commanders were feeling. The silence from the trench was eerie and resembled that of one you would find in the late hours of night in a graveyard. The only sound that could be heard was one of Arthur's comrades gagging slightly when a horrid scent carried by a gust of wind wafted through the air and into their noses.

"Fucking hell, smells like a dead rat," Manuel grumbled as he covered his nose with his hand in an effort to relieve himself from the stench. However, his concern for the smell faded when he noticed Arthur looking at the trees above them with confusion.

"That wind...it only shook the trees around us," Arthur said as he glanced over to one of the soldiers with them that held a sniper. Arthur made a gesture with his hand for the man to peer down his scope towards the German trench to spot movement. Each man held their breath in anticipation as the sniper scanned the trench line for Germans or the source of the horrendous smell carried by the odd wind. After a few moments they saw the sniper slowly lower the scoped rifle from his shoulder with a look of complete disbelief.

"I don't know how to saw this...but there's an actual fort out here," the sniper said as he detached the scope from the sniper and tossed it to Arthur.

"Any signs of the Germans?" Manuel asked as Arthur raised the sniper scope to his eye to see the cause of the confusion. Sure enough, Arthur spotted what looked to be a large structure of stone and rock. However, the more puzzling part came from the marble columns around it that seemed to give it an Ancient Rome design to it.

"There's not supposed to be a fort out here, according to the map," a soldier said as he scanned over a torn and tattered map given to them before they had departed.

"Well there's no way in hell they just built one overnight," Arthur said to himself as he scanned the area around the unknown structure, quickly stopping when he finally noticed movement within the trench. He quickly fixed his attention on it as he followed it as it made its way through the trenches towards the strange structure. Whoever, or _whatever_ , it was appeared to be a very large and moved quickly through the trench as if it were searching for something. It stopped for a moment and seemed to be glancing all around as if it knew someone was watching it before it knelt down to grab something. The sound of a struggle soon filled the air as the sound of wood cracking and grunting, both from a person and animal, came from the mysterious figure. And what Arthur saw next would haunt him for the remainder of his life:

The mysterious figure, a horrific monstrosity of boar and man, lifting a kicking and screaming German into the air with a single hand firmly grasped over the poor soul's face to muffle his cries. Arthur knew the others could see the same sight as he as the monster flexed its hand and caused the German's head to explode in a mist of brain tissue and gore.

"God save us," Arthur whispered to himself as the scope fell from his trembling hand.


	3. Chapter 3

No man could have ever prepared themselves to see such a sight of horror and Arthur was no exception. None dared to breathe in fear of revealing their location to the beast, who was now feasting on the newly made corpse in its hands. The beast looked like the demonic offspring of man and boar with its dark green skin, massive bloodstained tusks matching its gigantic body, hoofed hind legs and normal hands, and even wearing animal furs to cover its midsection. It did not take long for the scouting soldiers to figure out what had happened to the Germans and it took even less time for each man to begin trying to figure out a way to retreat from sight without being caught. Most of the soldiers present began removing their heavier items of gear to become lighter when they retreated while others clung to their guns as if their lives depended on them. While one man lost his nerve and vomited onto the ground around his feet, Arthur moved his focus from the feasting beast to the rest of the trench to see if any more creatures were there.

"What the hell do we do?" Manuel whispered to Arthur as he stopped searching the distant trench and looked over to the young Hispanic beside him. The southern man stood silently for a moment to think before he turned back to the sniper to speak.

"You have a shot?" Arthur asked, the sniper snapping his head towards Arthur with a look of complete disbelief.

"You think a bullet can kill that fucking thing?" the sniper asked in a petrified voice as the men behind him nodded their heads in agreement with the sniper. Before Arthur could retort, the beast suddenly began to snort loudly followed by a series of strange pig-like squeals and grunts. Everyone watched quietly from their positions amongst the trees as it did so while Arthur grew concerned.

"What's it doing now?" Manuel asked as everyone watched it drop the carcass back into the trench and begin heading towards the strange fort-like structure.

"Looks like it's leaving," the sniper said with a slight sigh of relief. However, despite it leaving, Arthur still held a feeling in his gut that something was amiss. The squeals and grunts the monster made did not feel like random sounds any animal would make. After all, the beast stood on two legs and could tower over any man that stood before it and had enough strength to crush a man's head like a grape. For something like that to just grunt like a pig did not seem to add up inside Arthur's head. It almost seemed...intelligent. While Arthur, Manuel, and the rest of the soldiers watched the beast stomp back towards the strange structure, the sniper felt a wave of relief wash over him as he slumped down to the ground around the tree he hid behind. As he began to breathe deeply to calm himself down while he hung his head, he suddenly felt something fall onto his helmet. He became confused as he placed a hand onto the top of his helmet and lowering back to his face to inspect it.

"Rain?" the sniper said to himself before all color instantly drained from his face and a look of absolute terror replaced his relief. He slowly raised his head to the sky above, praying to himself that it was just water.

"AAAAAAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHH!" a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the air as Arthur and the others looked just in time to witness the same kind of beast that had ravaged the German trench now lifting the sniper by his leg as he kicked and screamed in terror. The beast roared like a demon as it hurdled the poor soul directly into a tree, killing him instantly with an audible gut wrenching snapping of his spine and skull. Every man's instinct instantly kicked in as they began fleeing back to what they believed would be the safety of their own trench. The soldiers scattered into the woods as the beast roared louder than it had ever before to signal to the other they had seen and whatever monster was lurking around. Arthur ran faster than he had ever before in his life and he felt as if his feet were not even touching the ground beneath him. He was beyond terrified to even consider looking back to see if anything was following him or any of his comrades were running beside him. He no longer cared about the mission, he did not seem concerned for the other remaining soldiers fleeing for their lives through the woods, or for the others waiting back in the trench for them to return with a report.

He pleaded to whoever was listening for them to spare his life.

* * *

The American soldiers in their trench watched the tree line in the distance with their weapons loaded and aimed off towards the distance. They would have had to be deaf to not have heard what sounded like a roar followed by the deathly haunting screams of terrified men. There did not seem to be any movement amongst the trees that they could see but still kept their guns quiet as to not risk shooting their own men. Then, running full speed out from the tree line, appeared both Manuel and Arthur with most of their gear missing and sweat streaming down their terrified faces.

"What in the hell are you men running from?" the officer that had sent them on the mission barked out in anger at their loud retreat.

"SHOOT THE FUCKING TREES, SHOOT THE FUCKING TREES!" Arthur yelled in a voice that carried real fear as the trees behind them suddenly began to shake violently. The soldiers in the trench looked at each other for a moment before redirecting their attentions to the forest for the source of movement in the trees.

"Where the hell are the rest of you?" the officer called back as a sudden object rocketed from the top of the trees and into the air above the battlefield. When the object finally landed only a few feet from the trench, it was soon discovered to be the legs and waist of a human being ripped completely from its owner. However, any attention was not directed at the severed limbs and off towards the forest just as Arthur and Manuel hurdled themselves into the trench. The trees had completely ceased in their violent shaking as a new sound was carried through the wind blowing towards the American line. Any man in the military can identify the sound of marching feet and the magnitude of the unknown approaching force but no one could had expected to see what suddenly emerged from the forest. Along with the two massive boar beasts holding the corpses of two soldiers they had caught, the strange but intimidating sight of an approaching army on foot soon began to appear from the forest. The approaching army did not appear to be German or any other army from the Central Powers for that matter. The clanging and clamoring of metal echoed in the air as the soldiers marching from the forest appeared to be adorned in steel armor and armed with weapons resembling that of medieval times. In front of the advancing armored soldiers, on pale horse that whinnied and stamped on the ground beneath its hooves, rode what could easily be discernible as the general of this strange army. Raising his left hand into the sky the soldiers came to a complete halt from their approach. An eerie silence filled the air as the horseback general scanned the long trench line of the opposing confused soldiers for a few moments before made another gesture with the same hand as before. Manuel and Arthur had already stood back to their feet with Manuel rearming himself with one of the spare Winchester shotguns in the trench and Arthur's Lewis gun being returned to him.

" _Archers!_ " the unknown general called out in an indiscernible to his soldiers as the line at the front raised their shields to form a wall formation in front of the rest. The American soldiers in the trench quickly readied their rifles and machine guns for the imminent attack.

" _Fire!"_ the general bellowed as a massive wave of arrows suddenly erupted from the enemy line and soared into the air above the trench with the American soldiers inside gazing up in horror.

"TAKE COVER!" Arthur yelled as the arrows began to reach the ground.

The battle had begun.


	4. Chapter 4

The first volley of arrows fired by the armored soldiers proved to be a devastating first strike due to the trench's narrow design not allowing for many of the soldiers to brace themselves against the wall facing towards the advancing army. The sorry souls that were struck by the arrows found that, even though they had been hit by three or four arrows, a slow and painful death awaited them as the steel tips pierced their skin before collapsing to the floor of the trench bleeding profusely. Those who had taken refuge against the wall from the arrows reemerged and were quick to ready their guns for their counterattack.

"FIRE AT WILL!" the officer, who had been wounded by an arrow to his left shoulder, shouted as he and a medic began the difficult task of removing the arrow without causing too much damage to save his arm. Arthur and the rest of the men in the trench wasted no precious moment as they began firing into the armored ranks of the opposing army. Their bullets soared across the battlefield and, despite having massive shields, broke through the steel armor and pierced the internals of those unfortunate enough to be in the hailstorm of bullets' paths. As the armored soldiers began to fall into pools of their own blood all around him, the general tried to steady his horse as it whinnied and kicked all around from becoming startled by the thunderous roar of rifle and machine gun fire. No man in the trench needed to aim down his sights for too long and not run the risk of missing a target. The armored soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder to one another and were being mowed down by row after row of ranks. Many of the armored soldiers began to lose their nerve and were quick to abandon their places in formation to spare themselves from the brutal death that awaited them across the battlefield. The horseback general watched from the corner of his eye as soldiers began to flee from their formation to head back deeper into the cover of the forest. Before he could even call out to them, a bullet struck the horse directly through the left flank and caused it to buck wildly in response. The violent thrashing of the horse was quick to send the general tumbling from the saddle and straight onto his back. Arthur had just loaded another drum of ammunition into his Lewis gun when he had witnessed the fall of the general from his horse to the ground below.

"If they saw their general fall, there's a good chance the sorry bastards who haven't been killed yet will either surrender or run away," Manuel said as he watched the carnage unfold while holding onto Arthur's spare ammunition due to his weapon's short range of effect.

"Then let's give them more of a reason to run like hell!" Arthur yelled as he unleashed a hailstorm of rapid gunfire from his Lewis gun towards the enemy. The bullets tore through shields, armor, body, and bone as they tore through those who remained in their formation to await further orders from their general. Arthur had to admit that even he was impressed by the loyalty and discipline of those who remained where they had been order to stand as they awaited their general's orders.

Foolishness and idiocy at its finest, none the less.

When the general was finally able to collect himself after his fall from the horse, nearly a third of his army were either lying in pools of their own blood and filth or fleeing back into the woods to save their souls.

" _SIR?! WHAT SHALL WE DO?! WHAT ARE YOUR-_ " a soldier from within his ranks called out before a sniper's bullet pierced into his skull and painted the man behind him with blood and grey matter. The general looked on with absolute horror for a moment more before he recomposed himself and drew his sword from its scabbard at his side.

" _SEND THE TROLLS FORWARD! USE THEM TO ADVANCE!_ " the general called out as he used his blade to annunciate his words and command. It was nearly textbook timing as the two large beasts that had attacked Manuel and Arthur appeared from the forest followed by six more, each armed with crudely forged metal axes and swords at their sides. Arthur noticed their appearance at the front of the armored opponents and quickly shifted all his gunfire at the behemoths. Bullets that, despite shredding through the armored bodies of the human soldiers behind them, were wounding the beasts but not deterring them from their advance towards the American trench before them. The human infantry soldiers quickly began to use the advancing trolls as large moving shields to help in gaining more ground towards their enemy. While they advanced behind their newly formed cover, many of the remaining archers began to fire blindly into the air towards the trench to try and relieve the pressure from the trench bearing down upon them. Some missed by yards, some missed by mere inches, and some pierced directly through the skulls of those unfortunate enough to escape its path. One of these arrows even struck the medic attempting to remove the arrow from the officer's arm by piercing directly through his throat and windpipe. As the medic collapsed to the ground in a fit of pained gargles of drowning in his own blood, the officer grew completely infuriated as he snapped the arrow off by the steel tip still inside his shoulder. He quickly stood to his feet and, drawing his M1911 sidearm, began firing angrily into the advance horde of the unknown enemy.

"DO NOT GIVE THEM A SINGLE INCH FURTHER!" the officer bellowed to rally his men to continue fighting the attacking monsters and men clad in armor. Unfortunately, it was at this time that Arthur's Lewis gun had become overheated from the unwavering barrages of gunfire from its barrel. The southerner cursed to himself as he began to reach for his canteen of water to pour on the barrel to attempt and cool the barrel to allow use once more. While he did this, Manuel was now able to use his Winchester shotgun to attempt to repel the advancing enemy by peppering the line with buckshot. All gunfire had been directed towards the massive trolls stomping towards the line to prevent them from breaking through. After relentless firing from the American trench, only two of the trolls stopped in their tracks while the rest collapsed and caused the ground to shave violently. The two still standing began to growl and groan loudly in pain as they began to turn to retreat back to the forest. Unfortunately for the armored soldiers behind it, the trolls quickly began to stomp through whatever may have been in its path. It was almost like witnessing ants being crushed underneath massive feet from the perspective of the small insects. Arthur, Manuel, and the rest of the trench watched in both horror and astonishment as the trolls gave no concern for their human comrades with every massive bone crushing stomp of their feet. With their cover either dead or retreating, this left the armored soldiers that had not been crushed by the trolls to become mowed down by gunfire from the trench. One armored soldier looked back to the tree line of the forest to see what the general was going to command. He, however, had looked back just in time to see their own general dropping his sword to the ground and fleeing back into the forest to leave his men to die a gruesome death.

" _WE SURRENDER! WE RESIGN OURSELVES TO YOUR MERCY!_ " the few remaining armored soldiers called out in their strange and unfamiliar language to the American trench as they threw their weapons to the ground around their feet and raising their hands into the air in surrender. The words fell meaningless to the Americans but the raised hands were a universal signal of surrender that even they understood the meaning behind. With the surrender and defeat of the unknown enemy, an uproar of applause erupted from the trench as Arthur and Manuel climbed from the trench with a few others to begin grabbing the new prisoners to take back to the base. However, as they approached them, Arthur noticed a puzzled look on Manuel's face as they reached one of the armored soldiers. Having left his heavy Lewis gun in the trench behind them, Arthur used the Winchester shotgun previously given to him as he placed the barrel to the chestplate of the unknown soldier.

"On your knees!" Arthur yelled angrily, his command failing to illicit nothing more than the young man underneath the blood and mud stained armor to cry out in his strange tongue once more as tears of absolute fear streamed down his face. When Arthur cocked the shotgun to ready a shot, he was stopped by Manuel grabbing the barrel and pointing it directly to the ground.

" _Get on your knees, or he will kill you_ ," Manuel said in the same tongue as the armored soldiers had spoken, surprising both the soldier and Arthur as the soldier obeyed the order and fell to his knees.

"...I ain't gonna ask how you did that," Arthur said as the other armored soldiers followed in example of their comrade by falling to their knees and placing their hands on the back of their helmets.

"It's Latin, they spoke Latin...but an older version even for Europe's own standard for it," Manuel said as he began to remove the helmets from the captured enemies' heads.

"All I know is, nobody back at command will believe this shit," Arthur said as he gazed across the monster carcasses and hundreds of lifeless bodies slowly sinking into the mud of the battlefield. As if on cue, the storm clouds above them that had lingered since before all the carnage finally began to let loose in its usual practice of raining down upon the battlefield to wash away the blood for the next battle.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite the number of prisoners being escorted back to the base being only a mere four foot soldiers, it was still better to now have the ability of learning the cause of the attack and the origins of the unknown force with the discover of Manuel sharing his knowledge of their tongue. It was because of this that those in the trench had now learned that the armored soldiers served the unknown Saderan Empire. Both he and Arthur had been given the duty of escorting the prisoners back to base while Manuel was to question them along the long walk back. The road they traveled down was a lowly dirt road in the countryside of France with a farm house or two scattered alongside half a mile or so. His M1917 gripped tightly in his arms and his bayonet mounted and freshly sharpened, Arthur followed at the back of the line while Manuel took point and lead the line of prisoners. The prisoners, with their hands bound by rope behind their backs, hung their heads in humiliation and shame at the defeat of their large attacking force.

" _They hid in a ditch and were too cowardly to face us face to face, and yet they still defeated us,_ " one of the Imperial soldiers mumbled to himself, earning a quick reprimand from the butt of Arthur's M1917 to his back. The two men had removed their armor down to their solid black tunics and leggings with the exception of their crimson red capes to shield them from the rain lightly drizzling down upon them. The group trudged through the muddy road for what had seemed like hours until the distance sight of an American flag waving atop of a flag pole in the distance could be seen by Manuel.

"What do you think they'll do to these guys?" Manuel called back to Arthur, who shrugged his shoulders in response.

"I don't really know, and I could honestly care less about the wellbeing of these pricks," Arthur said as he turned his head towards the sound of a distant rumble and roar of a machine's engine. Although he had seen them before, neither Arthur or Manuel could still believe the sight of the Mk IV tank as three of them rumbled towards them on their way towards the American trench. After the fighting had ceased the officer had sent a carrier pigeon back to the base to inform them of the battle that had recently occurred. The Imperial soldiers gawked in complete disbelief at the sight of the monstrous metal machines as they slowly rumbled past the men. The ground beneath their feet shook from the passing of the unknown machines as the unfamiliar and unpleasant smell of burning fuel filled their nostrils. The roar of the engines was almost deafening to the unexperienced ears of the Imperials as they tried to cover their ears while their hands were still bound behind their backs.

" _What manner of demon are they?_ " one of the Imperial prisoners asked to another as they watched the three Mk IV tanks head down the road towards the distant battlefield.

" _We call them 'tanks'_ ," Manuel answered to the both confused and terrified Imperial prisoners.

The Allied base had been established in what used to be a large train station with six large brick and wood warehouses that had once been used to store cargo from trains. The personnel of the base consisted of a mixture of French, English, and American. The train station building was used by the generals and higher ranking officers as their quarters while the warehouses were used as soldiers' quarters, repair garages for vehicles, storage of weapons and munitions, and as a makeshift hospital for returning wounded. Many of the soldiers idling around the grounds were quick to spot the approaching soldiers and their prisoners of strange apparel and looks.

"Here are the prisoners the generals are expecting. Manuel will translate for them," Arthur called out as a few French and American soldiers rushed from the base towards them to accept the prisoners.

"Arthur, why don't you head to the barracks and I'll meet you there later? You haven't had time off the line for a while now," Manuel said as he gestured towards the warehouse that had been outfitted with bunks and cots for the soldiers retiring from the trenches used. Arthur nodded his head as he handed his rifle to one of the doughboys taking over his guard duty before making a direct path towards the barracks. He hoped to finally have a moment of silence and relaxation without fear of death looming over his head. However, word of his trench line being attacked by the strange new enemy had already spread throughout the base and it was hard to not spot him through the muddy uniform and slight blood on the side of his head.

It was not his blood, mind it.

Many kept their distance from him as he shambled wearily through the base while others followed behind him like a flock of gulls behind a sailing ship.

" _Monsieur_ , what happened out there?" a French soldier finally asked while Arthur did not even look back to face him in his response.

"Same shit that happens everywhere else on the line: the enemy rushed out trench, we cut them down, and we took the survivors prisoner," Arthur grumbled as he entered the barracks to find an empty bunk for him to rest on. When he entered the warehouse barracks, the closest set of bunk beads near the door quickly became vacant when he was seen by the soldiers inside. The chatter and friendly banter between soldiers that had been going on had instantly faded to complete silence as Arthur sat at the vacant bunk and began removing his gear to allow him to lay down and attempt to try and sleep.

"Hell of a fight, from what I have heard," a voice said to interrupt Arthur in his attempt to sleep as he slowly opened his eyes to see who was speaking to him.

"Forgive me for not standing, sir," Arthur grumbled as he placed a hand over his eyes to try and help in his attempt of sleep. The 'sir' he was referring to was a man of twenty-four with an average height and muscular build, white skin, blue eyes, short brown hair with a large mustache on his lip. There appeared to have been a scar over his left cheek he had most likely received from his service in the British Royal Army. His rank was indicated by his British Army Captain uniform accompanied by a green scarf around his neck.

"From what I heard I think you've earned your rest. I'm just here to get a few answers from you while your friend helps in the interrogation of the prisoners. First: did you see where these soldiers came from?" the British officer asked with, oddly enough, an American accent.

"Yeah, we found a strange fort out in the forest where the enemy line used to be. Whoever these Imperials are, they are definitely not with the Germans," Arthur replied as the American-British officer produced a small notebook to write down the information given to him.

"What did this fort look like?" the American-British officer inquired further.

"Uh...I can't really describe it. It wasn't too large, had stone columns against the wall around the outside of it, and looked like something you would find in Rome or something," Arthur replied as he tried his best to properly describe the enemy fortress. However, in doing so, a thought suddenly jumped into his head that caused him to quickly sit up from his bed. The size of the attacking Imperial force and its large monsters seemed massively disproportional to the size of the strange fortress. Even thinking back to the wind only shaking the trees in front of the fortress but not behind it even reentered his mind from his memory.

Almost like it was a gust of wind flowing through a narrow corridor of sorts.

The American-English officer was slightly surprised by Arthur's sudden jolt up from his resting position on the bunk but was quick to realize the doughboy's confusion.

"You noticed it as well? The reports of their dead and the size of those creatures not seeming to make sense with the size of the structure?" the American-British officer said without looking up while he wrote in his notebook.

"H-how do you know all this?" Arthur asked in astonishment at how well the high ranking officer standing beside him knew so much when even the generals at the base barely knew the situation.

"You were probably too busy with transporting the prisoners to notice the scouting biplane with myself aboard. We made a quick flyover of the battlefield before flying over the forest to find the source of the enemy soldiers. It is impossible that a structure that size could host that many soldiers."

Arthur just sat back in complete bewilderment as the American-English officer finished writing and quickly shut the notebook before sliding it back into the inside of his coat.

"Just who the hell are you, sir?" Arthur finally asked after a few moments of tense silence between the two. The officer smiled as he looked down at the stunned American soldier before he finally gave his reply.

"Captain Thomas Jackson Rorke of British Intelligence MI5, and what if I told you that the fortress you and those men found was not a fortress at all...but a door?"

 **Rouge 007 Agent - Cpt Thomas Jackson Rorke**


	6. Chapter 6

The interrogation of the Empire soldiers, which was revealed to be Saderan Empire, provided the answers to only the first of a thousand others that still needed to be. The generals now knew the reasoning behind the Saderan soldiers' attack against the Germans, but were completely unaware of the American trench on the other side of the forest. The first wave of attack against the Germans were mainly of what the prisoners called referred to as orcs, goblins, trolls, and other strange creatures that seemed more fantasy than reality. Every Allied base along the Western front had heard of the battle between the Americans and the Saderan forces and were now focused on the challenge of keeping the whole ordeal from the ears of the general public across the world. British and American tanks were shifted from all along the line towards the forest holding the Gate, even arial scouting missions reported seeing German tanks doing the same on their side of the forest. It was because of this that the soldiers from the opposing sides met at mutual grounds to begin the arduous process of a ceasefire and truce. It was very clear to the generals of both the Allied and Central Powers that there were more important issues at hand than that of the horrific slaughter of entire generations of young men. It was obvious that, after years of fighting and bloodshed, they would stand no chance against the Saderan Empire on their own. Both sides lacked the resources, manpower, and even the moral to fight them on their own. Generals from both sides met, wrote their concessions and demands, and finalized it with the signatures of the highest ranking generals present.

The next challenge came from the trees needing to be removed to allow better defenses to be erected around the Gate. This lead to now-allied Germans to use flamethrowers to burn the trees before using the tanks to roll over the dead and scorched forest. As for the billowing cloud of smoke from the burning trees, any villages nearby that still held civilians would simply assume it was caused from the fighting. When the ground had been leveled and cleared, the Gate now stood solemnly amongst the ashes and was now surrounded by tanks and soldiers armed to the teeth with the heaviest weaponry from their country's arsenal. The presence of the new enemy was quick to distract the hatred of both sides against the other and seemed to have brought more humanity to the fighting soldiers than that of the Christmas Treaty of 1914. However, there were still cases of brawls breaking out between Allied soldiers and Central soldiers. When it was believed that the Saderan prisoners had outlived their usefulness, they were sentenced to death by firing squad as to appease the German army for their casualties from the Gate's appearance on their trench line. The poor souls were completely unaware of what was going on until they were tied to wooden posts in front of a line of American, French, and German soldiers with rifles at their sides. Every one of them broke out into tears of complete fear, their please falling on deaf ears, as the rifles were raised and readied followed by the familiar roar of gunfire.

It had since been four months after the Gate had appeared and was now the sole concern of every soldier that was sent to guard and watch for any other appearance. However, during these months, it seemed that the Saderan Empire on the other side of the strange portal had either learned its lesson of sending forces through or was simply biding its time and gathering enough forces for another wave. Either way, machine guns and tanks were constantly manned and aimed directly into the opening as soldiers went through various guard shifts. One could easily feel the tension in the air amongst the soldiers as barely any conversation that was had was not about the possibility of another attack. Some were excited by the possibility of fighting a new enemy, others were terrified of facing against the creatures described to them from the dead prisoners. It was in this fear that seemed to cause the brawls taking place between the former enemies to all but fade away.

Then, the day finally arrived.

Soldiers from all sides were gathered at the American base located a few short miles from the Gate and stood at attention before a makeshift platform for the generals to stand and be able to speak over the ocean of men standing shoulder to shoulder in anticipation for the news. After what felt like hours, Captain Thomas finally appeared onto the platform before the crowd with a strange leather-bound book in one hand and the busted remains of what appeared to be a Saderan infantry helmet. Taking a moment to compose himself, for this was undoubtedly the first time he had ever spoken to a crowd of such size, Thomas began to speak.

"I know these past months of waiting have been filled with paranoia of the unknown, uneasy feelings towards your former enemies, and thoughts of desertion with the promise of not having to fight this unknown enemy. However, cast your feelings aside and hear what I say unto all of you this day! If they were to attack us again they would certainly have done so at any time before this day. So why have they not? Simple: they know of the power we wield and the level of destruction we can bring upon them! We know, from all reports of that fateful day, that these Saderan Empire soldiers do not possess the technology and firepower that we do! Our bullets shredded through their ranks as if they were stones being casted through wet paper! They have horses, we have tanks! They have swords and shields, we have flamethrowers and machine guns! Men of Germany, think of your fallen comrades the day the Gate appeared! They were killed mercilessly and brutally with no offer of surrender or chance of survival! Their bodies were rotting in the trenches when the Americans discovered it! Will you let their deaths be in vain as you simply stand by and wait for the same to happen again? For all of you, think of your loved ones who are now safely home and blissfully unaware of the horrors that have transpired? Would you subject them to the horrors of this war and what you saw that day? Will you stand and wait for the Saderan Empire to attack once more in large force and size? Your families look to you for protection! You are their swords, their shields, their guardians! We started this war as enemies, fighting under separate flags and different causes, with hatred filling our hearts towards our fellow man. Today, we do not fight for the Allied or Central Powers! Today, we fight as one army united under the call to arms! I hold here, in this journal, all knowledge we posses of the Saderan Empire and what lies beyond the Gate. Let any man here with fear and doubt in their hearts and minds be free to leave without fear of arrest or dishonor. For those of you that know your cause, know your purpose, and know your strength, I ask that you stand with your fellow man this day! We have the means to take the fight back to the Saderan Empire and prove to them just how deadly the sleeping bear they have awoken truly is!"

With this the crowd of gathered soldiers were thrown into an uproar of triumphant yells and cheers as many raised their fists to the sky. Even Arthur found himself among those who triumphantly bellowed out into the sky with a yell as he raised his rifle high above his head. For months, these men had lived with the lingering fear of the unknown and if they would be sent into the unknown to die a meaningless death that would never reach their loved ones. With their tanks and airplanes, rifles and machine guns, grenades and artillery, these men knew that they could easily push back against their enemy. The Saderan Empire would never catch them by surprise and would find that their attempt to spread their influence into our world would be met with wrath comparable to that of Ragnarok itself.

 **I apologize for the massive pause between updates, but work has been hell and a concussion sucks. But I'm still alive and I maybe still have a brain cell!**


	7. Chapter 7

**SORRY FOR THE SUPER LONG TIME OF NO UPDATES! If you've sent me an OC and haven't seen it yet, PM me so I can get a list going of who has and hasn't made an appearance.**

The day of days had finally arrived, the day that felt as if the entire world was sitting on the edge of its seat, the day that brought a looming feeling of both unease and excitement to the soldiers. The soldiers stood at attention in their neatly formed columns to be escorted by tanks of all shapes and sizes with their uniforms neatly pressed and their weapons brand new and polished. Each army had abandoned the individual uniforms of each country's force and had decided on a singular uniform to unite them all. The new uniforms consisted of the standard uniform and gear from the United States armed forces with olive green Adrian helmets to replace the bowl-like helmets of the British and American forces and a black arm patch worn on the left arm with what looked to be a crimson red Crusader cross stitched into the fabric. The standard rifle for each rifleman was the British SMLE, while the machine gunners were given a new weapon that had arrived from the United States: the Browning Automatic Rifle (BAR).

Arthur stood silently as he inspected the SMLE gripped in his hands before returning his attention to the two MK IV tanks before him in his formation. The formation consisted of six tanks leading the charge through the Gate, followed by a column of sixty soldiers and two Liberty trucks carrying ammunition and gear, then repeated down the line of soldiers and tanks that seemed to stretch on for miles. Arthur, Manuel, and Thomas had been placed in the column of soldiers at the very front of the formation, which meant that they would be the first to march through into the new world ahead. Arthur could feel his hands trembling slightly in fear of the unknown of what lay ahead but tried his best to hide this from the soldiers around him. He looked to his left to witness Manuel gripping a small cross necklace around his neck and whispering something in Spanish, obviously a prayer, before looking to his right to see Thomas struggling to light a cigarette with his metal lighter before growing annoyed and stuffing it back into his pocket. Arthur produced a new box of matches and proceeded to spark one to hold it to Thomas's cigarette. Thomas nodded to him before he looked ahead to the Gate with the others. An eerie silence now filled the air as the sky above yielded the same dark clouds as the ones present on the day of first contact with the Saderan forces.

'Lord, watch over us as we journey forth into a world unknown,' Arthur thought to himself as the sudden screech of an officer's whistle filled the air. This was the signal that caused the engines of the MK IV tanks in front of them to roar to life with a fit of black smoke and the grinding of metal gears. As the tanks began forward into the Gate the soldiers behind them followed behind with the Liberty trucks started a pace to keep up with the soldiers without running them over while they kept up with the tanks ahead of them. The marching of soldiers seemed to echo over the tanks' engines, which seemed to bring a wave of relief of just how many were behind the three of them. Their boots trudged through the mud left behind by the tanks rolling before them as the Gate's entrance grew closer and closer. The doorway was void of any light and gave more of the appearance of a marble mausoleum than a structure leading to a new world. Well, both technically lead to new worlds for those inside of them. Arthur could hear a German soldier a row behind him muttering incoherently to himself but quite loud enough to tell what the man was doing.

"What do you think it will be like over there?" Manuel asked Arthur, snapping him out of a trance he had unknowingly slipped into after studying the features of the Gate. Arthur simply shrugged his shoulders before he glanced over to Thomas.

"If what you told us was true, I assume we are going to a world we barely know anything about. There's no telling what we will find over there or even if they might be waiting for us," Arthur replied to Manuel's question.

"That would be what the tanks ahead are for," Thomas said as the three exchanging a slight scoff as they continued in their march. Thomas felt a sudden light tug at the back of his wool uniform, causing him to turn to see who was trying for his attention. It was the German that had been muttering to himself only a few moments ago but this time seemed to be struggling to get the words out of his own mouth.

"Cigarette...please?" the German finally asked in his best attempt at English.

"Piss off, Jerry," Thomas snorted as he blew a cloud of smoke into the German's face when he finished as if to punctuate the bitterness in his reply. As the German fanned the smoke away from his face and coughed slightly, he suddenly felt someone push something into his chest. When he stopped waving the smoke away from his eyes he saw Arthur holding a pack of cigarettes with the matches he had used to light Thomas's cigarette.

"Danke," the German said as he pulled a cigarette from the pack, lit the match, and then lit the cigarette between his lips before handing both items back to Arthur.

"Thomas, if we're gonna fight with 'em, we at least should try to act a bit friendly," Arthur said as he offered Manuel a cigarette, who shook his head in response.

"It was not long ago that these men were trying to kill us. We have all lost friends to those sauerkraut-eating bastards," Thomas growled as he glanced back to the German smoking the cigarette.

"Like it or not, hatred towards each other is not a commodity we can afford right now. Manuel and I saw what came from this Gate and know what it can do in a fight. There's no telling what might happen if one of those monsters gets loose in our world," Arthur retorted. Suddenly, as Arthur finished speaking, the front six tanks turned from their path towards the sides of the Gate. The soldiers in the column looked at each other in confusion at the tanks took up position around the entrance. Whatever ease the soldiers had felt in the beginning of the march was quickly replaced with the same amount of fear faced when going over the top. They had no armored protection against what may be laying in wait for them on the other side.

"FIX BAYONETTS!" an English officer bellowed, followed by various other officers yelling in other languages to the soldiers in formation. This confirmed their worst fear: they were the spearhead into the unknown. Arthur drew the blade from its sheath, mounted it on his rifle, and returned his gaze ahead of him. He, Manuel, and Thomas were not at the very front of the column, but were only a few rows back. When Arthur glanced over to Thomas, he saw him remove the cigarette from his lips and replace it with a whistle.

"Good luck, my friends," Thomas seemed to almost whisper under his breath as he blew hard into the metallic instrument, the shrill screech echoing all around them like before. The whistle was quickly drowned out by the columns various battle cries as the men charged full force into the abyss before them. They quickly ran through the entrance and into the darkness of a corridor-like passage. Darkness enveloped them from all around as the squelching of mud was replaced by what felt like a stone-like surface. This caused the men to pick up more speed inside the tunnel. After running for what felt like an eternity, a bright light began to shine before the charging column and grew with every passing moment. It felt like the light one was rumored to see when journeying to the afterlife. A twinge of fear stabbed Arthur's heart as this thought entered his head. What if this was death? What if he and the others had died on that day, and they were just now escaping from the hellish purgatory they were leaving behind?

Sweat dripped down his brow, his breath grew heavier with every running step he took, his fingers gripping the wooden stock of his rifle, and his voice crying out in defiance against his fear. He would not retreat...

He would not turn back.


End file.
